


Blackout

by asweallfallfromgrace



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Injury, Other, Pre-Slash, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 15:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11672226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweallfallfromgrace/pseuds/asweallfallfromgrace
Summary: Garak gets caught in a Jem'Hadar attack.





	Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little whumpy flash fiction exercise. This is my first time actually writing Garak and my second with Julian. 
> 
> Set around the 5th season?
> 
> There's a few mentions of blood/vomit, so if that's going to squick you out, be careful.

The needle went in and out of the seam of the pants, and Garak took a deep breath of the ice-cold air.

His day had not been particularly eventful - his customer base was shrinking by the day, what with the war and all. However, what work he did have was fairly intense, and he had quite a few challenging projects still to complete.

He had just finished this particular job - repairing a large rip in Lieutenant Camte's uniform - and his hand was beginning to cramp somewhat. He stood up to retrieve his now-cold cup of red leaf tea in an attempt to rejuvenate his focus.

Then, in quick succession, the red-alert siren started up, the station shook, and the lights went out. 

He froze, startled, but didn't have time to react further before another round of quaking began. The ground seemed to slip from beneath his feet, and he fell head-first onto the table, the uniform falling unceremoniously to the ground. 

He didn't pass out - at least he didn't think he did - but his vision blurred and the world briefly went gray. Suddenly, the red alert was a mere afterthought, taking a back seat to his throbbing skull. He could feel a decent sized gash above his left eye, oozing blood down his face. 

It seemed almost pointless to do anything - lethargy had settled on his shoulders like the Bolian cloak he had yet to finish. Furthermore, the blackness was beginning to close in. His claustrophobia seemed less important than his newfound exhaustion, but he still somehow found himself shaking. His instincts were screaming at him to stay awake, but yet somehow his eyes slipped closed and he slept.

\---

When he awoke, it was eerily quiet, compared to the shrieking of the red alert. His shop was a mess, clothes and tools strewn randomly over the small space. Worst of all, his head was still throbbing with every beat of his heart, as if it was being whacked with a hyperspanner. 

He stood up, bracing himself with the edge of his chair. He needed to get out of here - find out what was going on. However, nausea reared its ugly head, and the world began to spin. 

"Get it together, Elim." he told himself, clenching his teeth and fighting the urge to vomit and pass out again. He took a very shaky step towards the door, then another.

When he finally made it, however, he was dismayed to discover that the door had been destroyed in the...event, he decided to call it.

He was trapped. The comm was down, a few taps on the screen revealed. He was alone in the dark.

He took another slow, deep breath, trying to control both his body and his mind, willing away the anxiety that his circumstances stirred up.

"Stop being such a _cestUI_!" he whispered harshly aloud. "You are not going to die!"

No matter how he fought it, though, the anxiety remained, twisting a knot in his stomach. He used the surge of adrenaline to bang on the door, as hard as he could. The noise reverberated through the empty shop, reminding him further of his predicament.

Eventually, though, his energy faded, leaving a deep-seated feeling of complete exhaustion. He half-sat, half-collapsed in the chair as the edges of his vision began to gray once more. He welcomed the prospect of unconsciousness - the station was hellish enough on a regular day, but this was just too much.

Just as he passed out, he could just make out voices outside the door.

\----

He didn't fully awaken, but he was barely aware of familiar voices and sensations.

A thick fog blanketed him, warmer than anything he had felt in the last five years. Small chunks of conversation slipped through.

"...the Jem'Hadar..."

"...direct on level 7..."

"...civilians..."

"...concussion...bruising..."

The words made almost no sense to him, but he was content to just listen, the sound of the voices soothing.

He drifted in and out. There was no time, no space, only the fog.

\----

Eventually, awareness began to filter through, like sunlight through curtains, and Garak began to stir.

"Garak, can you hear me?"

He heard the words clearly, spoken by one of the voices from his...dream? Hallucination? Whatever it was, it was familiar, punctuated by the sound of a tricorder. 

A sigh. "You can lie to me about anything else, but I can tell that you're awake. Can you open your eyes?"

Things clicked. He had to be in the Infirmary. Of course. He forced his eyes open, cringing at the brightness of the light. After blinking a few times, the amorphous blue blur above him became a very relieved-looking Julian Bashir. 

"There you are," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"That answer may be obvious, I'm afraid." 

The doctor nodded and flipped the tricorder closed. "I can imagine. You had a pretty nasty concussion."

"One which I am not entirely sure how I acquired in the first place." Garak replied, sitting up. "What happened?"

"From what I saw, you hit your head during the Jem'Hadar attack two days ago. The repair crews found the door to your shop broken and you slumped over in a chair. Gave one of the ensigns quite a scare."

"Ah, youth." came the dry response, and Bashir rolled his eyes.

"I'm glad someone found it amusing. You weren't the one who had to treat him for shock." he said. "I have to go check on some other patients, now that I'm sure you're not going to crash on me. You had better still be here when I get back."

"My dear doctor, that veiled threat is not nearly as intimidating as you think it is," was Garak's only comment, but he remained in the biobed after Bashir had left.

It was odd. He had felt almost...relieved when he realized he was in the Infirmary. Bashir's presence was almost comforting. Not quite enough to let his guard down, but enough. The human he had befriended on impulse was sparking deeper feelings than he had ever expected. 

Perhaps it was the aftereffects of the concussion. But Garak was surprised to notice that he hoped the opposite.


End file.
